


Wolfwood's Bad Day

by Angsty_McGoth (Doctor_Cyance)



Category: Trigun
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-16
Updated: 2005-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Cyance/pseuds/Angsty_McGoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with a hangover, and only got progressively worse. Poor Wolfwood. Warnings for stupid humor, crude language and W/V. Shonen-Ai</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolfwood's Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on my LJ (angsty_mcgoth) around 2005, but I'm moving it here due to continuing issues with that platform.
> 
> Thanks to my betas, Orangewinters and Buttercup0222.

  
  
Vash was humming. That alone wasn’t truly enough to irritate Wolfwood on average, but most of his irritations grew by orders of magnitude when incubated with a seven-alarm hangover before his first cup of coffee. Especially when his drinking partner was sitting across the table with absolutely no deleterious effects from the previous night.   
  
There was a slight smile playing at the corners of Vash’s mouth as he read the comics section of the paper over his pancakes. Just the smell was enough to turn Wolfwood’s stomach. He’d contented himself with a very strong mug of coffee with three sugars and a side-order of half a pack of cigarettes. It was the perfect fuel for the scalding glares Vash remained completely oblivious to.  
  
Vash giggled. “Hey, you should read this one, it’s really--“  
  
He stopped dead at Wolfwood’s glower. “--or not. You know, I really think water would be better if you’re not feeling well.”  
  
Wolfwood didn’t bother to respond, but nodded at a passing waiter to refill his cup. He held Vash’s gaze as he downed half of it vindictively.  
  
“I don’t see why you’re taking this out on me,” Vash said peevishly.  
  
“Call it skepticism at your amazing fortitude after drinking as much as I did.”  
  
“If you’ll recall, I was sick and got the bulk of that out of my system last night.”  
  
“Yeah, you can’t handle your alcohol worth shit.”  
  
“Looks like you’re handling it _real_ well,” Vash snorted, going back to his comics.  
  
Wolfwood returned to his sulk, saving the majority of it for Vash but spreading it around to the other customers as well. This town was just too damn happy in the morning.  
  
He nudged Vash’s foot and jerked his head towards a tall man at the front of the restaurant. “That guy’s checking you out.”  
  
Vash turned immediately and waved. The man smiled back with a grin full of gold teeth.  
  
“Ow, hey! You don’t have to kick me!”  
  
“You’re not supposed to _look_ , dumbass!”  
  
“He’s not really my type.” Vash glanced back over his shoulder and shrugged. “Besides, I think he’s already with someone.”  
  
“He’s not going to ask you on a fucking date, dipshit. He’s making sure you’re Vash the Goddamn Stampede!”  
  
Vash raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t you think you’re being rather paranoid?”  
  
Several things happened very rapidly: above the clink of dishes, Wolfwood barely heard the sound of a gun being cocked a microsecond before he watched in almost slow motion as his coffee mug exploded, soaking his half-finished pack of cigarettes. He experienced momentary hopelessness before it was replaced with a very urgent desire to kill something. Anything. Maiming Vash would suffice.  
  
Vash was already under the table as Wolfwood ducked beneath it. “Yeah, me! Paranoid! You ought to try it sometime!”  
  
“You don’t even know if they’re shooting at us to begin with!”  
  
“You’re right, they’re probably just trying to stick up the cash register but’ve got fuck-all aim!”  
  
“Wait,” Vash said, drawing his gun. “I’m having an idea. Have you got your cross?”  
  
“ _You_ said to leave it at the hotel because it was _scaring_ people!”  
  
“Oh right…well, it was.”  
  
“It’s _supposed_ to scare people!”  
  
“Hold on, that gives me another idea.”  
  
“Oh, _shit_ \--” Wolfwood began, but Vash had already lunged for him, looping an arm around his throat in an effective headlock and wrenching them both to their feet.   
  
“Everybody freeze or I shoot this hostage!”   
  
Wolfwood was mildly surprised that they stopped firing.   
  
“You--“ Vash gestured. “Goldie. Patches. Touch the fan.” The men raised their arms, hands still clutching various weaponry, and the fan exploded in a shower of wood splinters and plaster as a shotgun discharged.  
  
“Drop your weapons _then_ hands up; get rid of their weapons _first_ ,” Wolfwood hissed. Vash kicked him unkindly in the shin.  
  
“Weapons on the floor unless you want the blood of a priest on your hands!” Vash’s gun clicked against Wolfwood’s temple. He wondered for the first time if it had a safety.  
  
“Oh God, help! It’s Vash the Stampede! He’s crazy; he’s going to kill me!”  
  
Vash began to slowly maneuver them towards the door, pushing his gun against Wolfwood’s head hard enough to bruise. “You two, get behind the counter! Now, or I’ll paint this place with brain cells that can recite the Bible!”  
  
“Oh please, somebody help me! He’s fuc-- _ow_! He’s really-- _really_ crazy!”  
  
Vash backed them out the door, Wolfwood still pinned under his gun and their assailants glaring daggers from the kitchen. Vash kicked the door closed as they hit the street and started running.   
  
“ _Brain cells that can recite the Bible_?! Are you absolutely _positive_ you’re sober?!”  
  
“Oh, give me a break. It would not be possible for you to ham it up anymore more back there,” Vash scoffed. “We need some height, seeing as _some_ of us were too hung-over to come armed today.”  
  
They sped down an alleyway and at the first fire ladder, began to climb. Wolfwood’s head poked over the top of the roof and a shot nearly took it off. “Fuck!” He glanced down the ladder at Vash. “Um, this one seems to be taken already.”  
  
“Well, you can’t come back down!”  
  
“Tongari, may I please borrow your gun?”  
  
“Are you out of your _mind_?!”  
  
“Why the fuck do you think I said ‘please’, you asshole?!”  
  
“Just--keep--going--“ Vash growled, pushing him up and onto the roof where he rolled for cover. Vash followed, managing to hit the lookout who crumpled in a heap before he could react. Vash scrambled over the ledge, landing unkindly on top of Wolfwood’s prone form.  
  
Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. “My, aren’t we the opportunist today.”  
  
“Oh, stop flattering yourself,” Vash said, heaving himself up. Wolfwood jerked him back as several rounds were fired from the ground.   
  
“Keep your stupid spiky head down, idiot.”  
  
“Wooow, there’s a lot of ‘em down there,” Vash said, peering over the edge. He scrunched his nose up in confusion. “They look kind of, er, short.”  
  
“You’re on the goddamn roof, _everybody_ looks short from up here!”  
  
Several shots pinged off the roof as their pursuers began climbing atop the adjacent buildings.  
  
“Well this isn’t, hmm, very good.”  
  
“No fucking shit!”   
  
“Wait, I’m having an idea.” Vash smiled. “How much do you trust me?”  
  
“This isn’t exactly the time for that conversation, now is it?!”  
  
“Well give it a try, at least. Here, hold onto this for me,” he said, handing Wolfwood his gun.   
  
“ _Excuse_ me?” Wolfwood asked, sitting up and staring incredulously at Vash’s gun, glancing up just in time to see Vash’s fist a moment before it slammed into his temple. The last thing he saw before his eyes rolled back in his head were Vash’s--no, that _utter fucking moron’s_ \--coat tails flapping in the air as he jumped off the roof.  
  
**  
  
“Do you think he’s dead?”  
  
“We’re not that fortunate. Besides, no blood.”  
  
Wolfwood’s head was splitting. And those voices sounded distressingly familiar. And _why_ was it so bright out?   
  
“S'mone shut th’ window,” he mumbled, curling up into a tighter ball and throwing an arm over his eyes.  
  
“Now, now, c’mon sweetie, it’s time to wake up.”   
  
Wolfwood knew that voice and the long shadow that came with it as Milly knelt over him and nudged his shoulder.   
  
“Jus’ gimme five more min’tes.”  
  
“ _No_ , morning was twelve hours ago. You need to get up _now_.”  
  
Oh god, _both_ of them? How drunk had he _been_ last night? By the pounding of his head, Wolfwood could tell that the answer was exceedingly. As if to reassure him of this fact, Meryl kicked him harshly in the shoulder.  
  
“Here, try this, sempai.”  
  
Wolfwood could hear a bottle being unscrewed and was then doused in luke-warm liquid. Shit, what fresh hell was this? He refused to speculate until he heard Meryl, “Milly, you’re supposed to keep them full, what if we were out in the desert and had an emergency?” and then louder, clearly aimed at the very stupid, “Hey you! Wake the hell up or I’m going to find a fire hose!”  
  
Wolfwood grunted and rolled over. “What are you guys doing in my room?”  
  
“You sure went sleep-walking if this is your room,” Milly giggled.  
  
Wolfwood sat up abruptly and clutched his head to prevent it from exploding. “Fuck! _Ow_ , Christ! Where the hell am I?”  
  
“The roof of a hotel.”  
  
“Shit, was I really sleep-walking?” His teeth felt like they’d rearranged themselves during the night as well.  
  
“Not _your_ hotel, _our_ hotel. It has a restaurant downstairs. You might be familiar with it, seeing as how you shot up the place before Milly and I even got a chance to eat there!”  
  
Wolfwood responded in the only appropriate way possible: “Huh?”  
  
“How could you forget something like that?!”  
  
Wolfwood shrugged and tried not to think too hard on it. Undoubtedly, Meryl would provide an explanation. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and only found a very sad-looking dog end and a pack of matches. That couldn’t be right; he remembered getting two packs the night before, when he’d gone to the bar with Vash and then--with the drinking--and the hangover--and bad coffee and lots of people shooting at them--it all came back with the speed of a sandsteamer.   
  
“He hit me! That prick hit me!”   
  
Meryl stopped mid-sentence. “Excuse me?”  
  
“He hit me!” Wolfwood clutched the side of his head and winced. Yep, that was the spot. “He didn’t even _warn_ me or anything!”  
  
“Oh no, did you and Mr. Vash have a fight?”  
  
“Probably serves you right. Were you trying to steal his gun or something? Is that why you have it?”  
  
“I--what? No!”   
  
“Well, you had it and he’s nowhere to be found. Doesn’t exactly look good for you.”  
  
“What _are_ you, the Gestapo?”  
  
“I’m an insurance agent!”  
  
“Same thing,” Wolfwood muttered. He shrugged, forgoing the long version. “Some jackasses are after his bounty again, that’s why the café’s in pieces. And before you ask, _no_ , I’m not going after him. He can get himself out of this one on his own, seeing as _I think_ that's why he popped me one."  
  
"You didn't even bother to discuss your plans first?!"  
  
"Some plan!" Wolfwood snorted, "Dumbass probably thinks he can turn himself in and get out of things in one piece, but he's _not_ getting any goddamn help from me when that doesn't work out! It's what he gets for going around beating the shit out of people who’re on his side!”  
  
“If you think the shit’s beaten out of you _now_ , just you wait, mister,” Meryl glared down at him. Wolfwood found it was somewhat embarrassing to be glared _down at_ by Meryl. “We have a contractual obligation to make sure that… _man_ doesn’t cause damages, and I’m not about to let a gang of children get in the way of that.”  
  
“Wait, children? What?”  
  
“You got beaten up by a bunch of drop outs, Mr. Priest.”  
  
“No, these weren’t kids; I was there. Unless they feed people something radioactive in this town, these were definitely not kids.”  
  
Meryl rolled her eyes. “Alright, _fine_! Maybe the ones doing the shooting were older. I wasn’t there, thank God! They were all delinquents at one point, and surprisingly enough, guess what? They age!”  
  
“We had to take a damages statement from the restaurant owner after…you know…the problem you guys had this morning,” Milly explained. “He said that group is kind of a fixture in this town. All the petty crimes and stuff, they’ve even got a hideout! I think they really keep them around so the sheriff has something to do.”  
  
“Well, then why isn’t _he_ dealing with it?”  
  
“Have you seen him? He must be eighty if he's a day.”  
  
“And liable to go for Vash’s bounty himself, I wouldn’t doubt,” Meryl added. “You probably couldn’t trust anyone in this town, which is why we have to get him out ourselves.”  
  
She said it with the type of determined conviction that typically ended in massive quantities of bloodshed, or paperwork. Wolfwood honestly couldn't decide which was worse.  
  
“What the hell do you need me for?!” Wolfwood snorted, lighting his dog end cigarette and taking a deep drag.  
  
“You’re coming with us, dammit!”  
  
“No, I’m not! No way in hell! That bastard deserves whatever he gets!”  
  
“You’re going to concede defeat to a bunch of snot-nosed brats?! Fine way for a legend to go down.”  
  
“Actually, I’m having a nice time appreciating the irony.” Wolfwood exhaled a cloud of blue smoke through his nose. “And if you think Vash is really going to get done in by that, you’re sadly deluded.”  
  
Meryl cuffed the back of Wolfwood’s head to send his cigarette flying. “He left you his gun for a reason, and you’re not even going to do anything about it?!”  
  
Wolfwood clutched the back of his throbbing skull and glared at Meryl angrily. “I wasn’t exactly planning on it! If you want to go save him, be my guest, but you can count me out of your little rescue party, you raging bitch!”  
  
Milly’s hand flew to her mouth as she winced, air hissing between her teeth.   
  
“What’s wrong with you now?”   
  
Milly looked like she was bracing for a sudden impact. “You really shouldn’t use that word…she really… _hates_ that word.”  
  
**  
  
Elsewhere, Vash was beginning to sweat. It wasn’t that it was particularly hot in his cell; it was due to the smoldering glares he received from the four people surrounding him. His mouth felt dry.  
  
“I have just one question.” He swallowed heavily, staring intently at the man directly across from him. “Do you have...any _eights_?”  
  
The man sneered, revealing his set of gold teeth. “Go. Fish.”  
  
Vash hung his head in defeat and drew a card. “Man, this game is hard! Can’t we just play Old Maid instead?”  
  
“Old Maid is not a _man’s_ game.”  
  
“Besides, you’re only fussing because you’re losing,” the kid to Vash’s left snickered.  
  
“Got way more cards than you,” Vash huffed.  
  
“You want to have _less_ , idiot.”  
  
“What, are you kidding me?!”   
  
There was a sudden, high-pitched whistling sound followed by a shuddering collision that rocked the building. The leader of the gang threw his cards down and stood, muttering. “Goddammit, I tol’ Barty not to mess with the nitroglycerin when it gets hot like it is! He’s only got that one arm to begin with.”  
  
“Idiot,” the kid snorted.  
  
“Blow things up much, ah, around here?” Vash asked conversationally.  
  
“Not really. Not as much as _some_ people would like.”  
  
“Yeah, you saw how small that town is, and nothing else around for iles. Not much to steal, really, but one’s gots to be prepared.”  
  
Vash nodded in sage agreement.  
  
“But we’re rich now, thanks to our lucky bounty here!” The kid beside Vash gave him a friendly clap on the back.   
  
“Hah ha, yes, your lucky day, ah, isn’t it, then?” Vash laughed nervously.  
  
Gold teeth grinned back at him. “Not for _you_ , that is. Got any threes?”  
  
Vash whimpered and passed his cards across.   
  
There was a second whistling sound; this time Vash ducked instinctively. The explosion hit much closer than the first, rocking the floor and causing chips of plaster to rain down over Vash’s hand.   
  
All three bandits exchanged glances, “That wasn’t Barty this time.”   
  
They tossed their cards to the ground and ran out, slamming the door on Vash.  
  
“But wait, I was just getting the hang of this!”   
  
**  
  
“Stop firing, dammit! Do you even know what stealth _is_?!”  
  
“Then what do you suggest, shorty? Not like you’ve got a lot of fucking cover out here!” Wolfwood shouted as he reloaded and took aim. Meryl deliberately swerved as he fired and the shot went wild, slamming into the sand near the rapidly-approaching hideout.  
  
“Oooh, nice shot!” Milly cheered.  
  
“Holy fuck, learn how to drive, woman! You’re butchering my aim!”   
  
“That was my intention, or are you _trying_ to destroy the thing?!”  
  
Wolfwood thought about it for a moment. “Well, yeah!”  
  
“Vash is in there and I don’t want to take him home in pieces!”  
  
“You may not, but I’m not exactly opposed to the idea!” Wolfwood picked himself up off the bed of their borrowed pickup and loaded another round despite Meryl’s glare in the rearview mirror.   
  
Finding where Vash was had been the easy part; the local terrorists-slash-bounty hunters-slash-juvenile delinquents of the town were rather infamous and Wolfwood had the strong suspicion that the directions they’d received had been written by the area school’s principal.   
  
Their hideout was a large stucco building built against the only rock formation in the area, and Meryl was only joking herself if she thought she could get close enough without kicking up a dust cloud that would’ve been seen for iles. Besides, Wolfwood had always been a big fan of the proactive approach, especially when hung-over and in dire need of a cigarette.   
  
Meryl peeled up in the shadowed side of the building and Wolfwood leapt off. “You two stay with the truck, I’ll go find the idiot. Or whatever’s left of him. It shouldn’t take long.”  
  
“Of course not; there’s not much of a building left to search.”  
  
“Oh, will you give me a fucking break?”  
  
“Good luck!” Milly smiled, stun gun resting in her lap like a coiled tiger.   
  
Wolfwood charged down a deserted corridor, blinking as his vision adjusted to the interior gloom. Shit, where _was_ everybody? If the townsfolk were to be believed, this gang was easily a quarter of the population which made Wolfwood sincerely doubt in their public education system.   
  
He by-passed an area with a lot of shouting coming from it, wisely running in the opposite direction and passed through a filthy kitchen, dining room, and several dozen armories, attempting to remember his path as he went. He _sort of_ remembered taking a large chunk of the Eastern side of the building off, which significantly reduced his search area.  
  
Running down a well-lit hallway, he passed several open doors with dirty laundry and the distinct odor of sweaty socks spilling from them. Ah, this must’ve been the living area. By quick inspection, the rooms could easily pass for cells if needed. Only one door remained closed and locked. He knocked lightly on it.  
  
“I still don’t know who you can collect the bounty from.”  
  
That sounded about right. “Stay away from the door, okay?”  
  
“Don’t you even think about blowing it down!”  
  
Wolfwood swung his cross so it connected several inches above the rusty lock, breaking it and causing the door to swing inward and bounce off the opposing wall. He pushed it in only to find himself on the receiving end of a fist belonging to one _very_ angry Vash the Stampede. Wolfwood’s nose made a sickening crunch.  
  
“Dammit, _ow_! It’s me, you fuckhead!”  
  
“I know!” Vash looked ready to wind up for another shot at him.  
  
“Well, then stop hitting me, asshole! What’s wrong with you?!”  
  
“What’s wrong with _me_?! _You’re_ the one blowing holes everywhere! Are you trying to kill me?!”  
  
“Actually, that’s starting to sound like a damn good idea! Jesus Christ, look at this!” Wolfwood hissed as he pulled his shirtsleeve away from his nose, which was doing absolutely nothing to staunch the flow of blood. “You have to hit me with that goddamn metal arm of yours? You’ve got a normal one, use that!”  
  
Vash folded his arms crossly. “Then I’d have to hit you twice as hard to achieve the same effect.”  
  
Wolfwood shot him a glare that would peel paint. “If you broke my nose, I’m going to hit you so hard your brother feels it.”  
  
“Stop being such a baby,” Vash said, holding out a handkerchief.  
  
Wolfwood snatched it, along with Vash’s hand and dragged him into the hallway. “Well? Let’s go, cupcake. I didn’t come all this way just to look at your pretty face!”  
  
Vash jerked his hand away and glared resolutely. “If you think for one second that I needed a, a rescue mission, you’re in for such a _painful_ surprise--“  
  
“Painful surprise? Fuck, I’ve had two of those already today! Three if you count the hangover and that I haven’t had a smoke since this morning! What, are you planning on _killing_ me later?”  
  
“Don’t tempt me,” Vash snapped as the building rocked menacingly and they were showered with fresh plaster.  
  
Wolfwood looked around in genuine confusion. “That wasn’t one of mine.”   
  
“Time to be going now!”  
  
“Were you playing _cards_?”  
  
“No, no, not me. I was being um, brutally interrogated. The kids--I mean _guards_ \--were playing. Uh, Go Fish, I think, I wasn’t paying attention. At all.”  
  
“That’s a crying shame; Old Maid is a much better game.” He grabbed Vash’s arm, weaving back what he thought was the way he’d come. They turned a corner and headed towards a bright square of sandy light, blinking blindly for a moment.  
  
“Hiya, Mr. Vash!”  
  
“You brought the girls too?!” Vash sounded aghast.  
  
“It wasn’t exactly my decision!”  
  
“Get in the damn truck!” Meryl shouted before gunning the engine.  
  
“Oooh, was there a fight? How did you get hurt?”   
  
“Yes, go on, tell her.”  
  
“Fine! Fucking fine! I am never saving you ever again! Happy?”   
  
Wolfwood slid back against the floor of the pickup as Meryl hit the gas, replacing the sopping cloth over his nose and wondering how his day could have possibly come to this.   
  
***  
  
Wolfwood slammed the door, saw Vash sitting at the small table in their room and stabbed a finger at the plaster now covering the bridge of his nose. “The fucking bill for this is getting sent straight to you.”  
  
Vash glanced over his newspaper. “Why?”  
  
“I imagined you’d want a little proof of your handiwork in quite possibly _permanently_ damaging my best goddamn feature.”  
  
“I always thought having an enormous nose was considered something of a turn off. That’s your best feature?” Vash snorted. “I don’t want to know what you consider to be your worst.”  
  
“It’s _going_ to be my worst if it turns out all fucked-up and crooked!” Wolfwood jerked the paper out of Vash’s hands and hauled him to his feet. “You like my eyes, huh? You like the nice shiner that’s starting to show?”  
  
“I don’t see how any of this is directly my fault,” Vash said, crossing his arms defiantly. “I didn’t really want you or the girls getting involved at all. They were just kids.”  
  
“You might want to make that a little more goddamn clear in the future!”  
  
“It seemed like common sense!”  
  
“Your idea of common sense is what people get after they’ve received a head wound!”  
  
Vash smirked nastily. “I guess you’d be the expert on that now, wouldn’t you?”   
  
“No thanks to you, fucking smartass!”  
  
Vash’s smirk softened into a smile, and then he was laughing. Wolfwood continued to glare. “I’m glad you find this so fucking amusing.”  
  
“Hmm? I’m sorry,” Vash said, his shoulders still shaking. He wasn’t nearly sorry enough, in Wolfwood’s opinion. Wolfwood continued to glare as Vash’s hand touched the side of his face, a gloved thumb sliding across the darkening bruise beneath Wolfwood’s left eye.   
  
“You know,” Vash started, with that same mischievous smile. “It does almost match your eyes.”  
  
“Is that supposed to be a fucking compliment?”  
  
Vash shrugged. “It’s a nice color.”  
  
Wolfwood turned his head to the side and Vash kissed him, and just the wet slide of his tongue against Wolfwood’s lip seemed to make every shitty thing that’d happened a lot less important. Even when Vash’s nose nudged against his own and it stung, it wasn’t nearly bad enough to stop.  
  
Vash had only kissed him for a few moments before Wolfwood pushed him away with a sharp gasp. “Shit, I can’t breathe.”  
  
“Wow, I never knew I was such a great kisser.”  
  
“No, I mean my nose is stuffed with cotton and blood.”  
  
Vash grimaced. “That’s just exactly what I was hoping to hear right now.”  
  
“Well, whose goddamn fault would that be?!”  
  
“We’ve covered this already, and it’s yours.” Vash sighed in a long-suffering manner. “I suppose in that case we’ll just have to hold hands and cuddle or something.”  
  
“Or _not_ ,” Wolfwood growled. “Despite your best efforts, I’m not a fucking invalid. Yet.”  
  
Vash’s impish grin was back. “Prove it, then.”  
  
Wolfwood pulled Vash back towards him and proceeded to do just that.


End file.
